Locked
by The What-If Writer
Summary: ONE-SHOT: "Set years before the events of 'DreadLocked', Ace had just eliminated another hapless hero in the arena. But another, cold contestant decides to bring up things he doesn't wish to speak about. It wasn't that Ace felt guilty...at all." Rated for mentions of violence.


_This could have been done better, but since I loved 'Dreadlocked' I decided to do a One-shot considering the fallen hero and this is what resulted. Reviews are appreciated._

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Locked

The arena was silent for a moment; a breath. A sudden stillness had come over the gun-invested, dust-covered, and now very blood-stained grounds of the outdoor arena, constructed of what once was a peaceful canyon.

Then, bursts of applause.

Ace Hardlight straightened up from his fighting stance, his gun cocked to the side, smoke floating from the barrel into the air. The lighting of the arena lamps and the clouded sun above reflected off the floating cameras around him and he raised his clenched fist in the air, evoking yet another roar from the crowds gathered in the stands.

Above him the unmistakable booming voice of Dallas the commentator/news anchor rang out,

"And what a conclusion! Ace Hardlight, all-time champion of Dreadzone, has just illuminated Viper-Man with one hit! Whaddya thinka that once, Juanita?!"

"It is true, Dallas," The accented feminine voice of the robot in question continued, "And what a _bloody _illumination- a real _classic_."

Ace ignored them as best he could as he basked in the applause, but Dallas' slightly squeamish response to his partner's bloodthirsty tone could be heard even the loudest cheers.

"...Um, Sure is, Juanita...Anyway! Tune in tomorrow sharp, and watch as the exterminators take on the Turbo Triplets..."

Their voices trailed off as he strode away to the teleport station that would take him back to Dreadzone's station, and to his quarters. He made sure to wave proudly to the grounds around him, flashing a white (but sharp) smirk as he did so. His blood was still rushing from the fight- a better one than he'd had in ages. It had almost been a challenge.

His smirk broadened( and the woman's cheers subtly grew) as he thought about it. Almost a challenge- but considering the Viper's famous venom was all dried up...

The red ray of the teleport device fell over his eyes, and a sharp scratching sound rang out around him. In a flash, he was gone from the outdoors.

He emerged in the halls of the Dreadzone Station. He fiddled with the end strand of his hair and dusted off an arm, and began striding down the hallway. It was quite shady in these halls; The space around them seemed to close in a little in this place. Not that it bothered him anymore.

Still chuckling a little at the look his opponent had given him in the last moment before the kill; the wide-eyed expression...it was gunny how a guy who apparently saved words could manage it. He smoothed back his hair, pausing in the hall. It was also...quite bare today. Guess the other 'voluntary contestants' had decided to stay clear of him.

Captured heroes and heroines were given a tiny bit of freedom to wander around. Vox like to watch the rats run about in their box- a little bit of freedom to make them hungry for more, and then despair because of the denial of it. A little quirk of that sharkish man.

Ace continued around the corner, hoping to get to his quarters without Dallas showing up to congratulate him with some more of his cameras. Not that Ace minded cameras...but that man directing them right in his face wasn't worth it.

"Heard 'e was a good man."

Ace stopped.

He found that this hall wasn't empty. Standing opposite the windows, away from the light cast by distant stars, stood a very small and decidedly purple-brown figure. Arms folded over his chest, a leg curled around the other as he leaned against the wall.

Ace turned his head a little, looking down at him darkly. "Oh. It's you."

The creature was indeed small in stature; black stripes, triangular shapes on his ear (three) but only one on the other. There may have been three- once. All that remained of his other large ear was a torn mess. A tail hung limply behind his legs, also striped. Five fingers on each hand, a cat-like face. Big, round, sickly pale blue eyes stared up at him with a solid coldness, a cool frown upon his muzzle.

The kid nearby had shown up as a small-time hero; someone they grabbed because they were waiting for bigger fish to swim into their nets. Ace hadn't paid much attention to him; heard nothing on the Holonet about him- or what he even was. What was it again? Lum-rack? Lom-tax? Wait- a Lombax.

He definitely wasn't from Solana. Not that it mattered.

All that mattered was that he was a little pest. From the second he saw the brat, who couldn't be older than thirteen or so, he'd despised him.

"Heard he saved alotta folk down on Mobias." He remarked, his tone even. Ace's eyes narrowed to slits. He continued walking down the hall, albeit at a much slower pace. Maybe some part of him wanted to know what the kid was getting at, though the same part kind of knew.

"Heard he had family, too. Good man."

Ace stopped. He heard the tone sharpen. He snorted a little and turned to face the brat, who was now was scowling right back at him with more venom than the man he'd just defeated. "What are you trying to do, anyway? Think you can get at me with your little mind-games, fur-ball?"

He remained calm, merely staring back at him. His scowl faded a little, through remained. "I never said anything about mind-games, Ace. Why, is something bothering you? You sound nervous." Now his words were dripping with sarcasm. Ace rose a brow.

"Me?" His voice started low, then escalated to near-growling, "I'm _Ace Hardlight_. I don't get nervous- I'm the greatest Gladiator in the Galexy."

But, he was only infuriated more when all he got in return was a silent glare. There was a pause, the two staring each other down. He stormed closer after a while.

"Your little guilt trips won't work here, short fry." Ace said, lifting his visor from his eyes just so leer down at the fur-ball. "Encase ya haven't noticed, no-one cares. Ya need to grow-up."

He turned and slipped his visor back down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brat grind his teeth together in a snarl. A light grin came to his face upon getting a rise out of him.

He was now scratching the fur around his neck; where the Dreadzone collar clutched his small throat in a dangerous hold. Ace decided to poke further.

"Don't feel sorry for that green guy, Little Man," He remarked coolly, "Its yourself ya should be crying over."

Without looking back, he strode confidently away, grin still latched onto his face. He felt like he'd won, and against that brat it was worth more than a cheer in the crowd.

Behind him, the kids' clenched fists shook in silent fury. He spoke slowly and quietly.

"Greatest Gladiator in the Galaxy? More like the greatest coward. Your nothing but a murder, Ace."

Ace continued walking, but glared back at him quietly over his shoulder. Just as he turned the corner and they broke eye-contact, his voice spoke again.

"Nothing but a murderer. That's all you'll every be. You're a loser, Ace."

There was a pause. He continued walking. His words didn't mean anything- he was just some bleeding heart who thought he was big with words. Ace's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. They meant...nothing.

As he strode away, Ace called back to him:

"We'll see who the loser is when you're the one on the Arena. I'll see you soon, Lombax."

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_Its all about the undertones, people. Ace doesn't feel guilty at all...or does he?_

_Please review._


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